The Other Light
by paramorebrighter
Summary: Emmett Swan gives up everything to support his family, but in his brave efforts, he can't do it all. Will underground boxing be his answer?
1. Chapter 1: The Other Light

_**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, musical lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot and lyrics are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**_

_**A/N- this was written for a contest at the Writer's Coffee Shop Library, I'd appreciate your votes, so if you want to vote for me, vote on May 1st here:**_

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_**Thank you much!**_

* * *

"Hey, there Emmett! There's a puke cleanup in the North Corridor, Swan," Chris, my manager said in his most passive-aggressive voice. "Better get to it!"

Shit. I hated this job with all my heart. I hated the coveralls, the constant smell of nice little cleaners mixed together with piss and puke of drunken, rich college students partying away their summers in Forks because of the short distance to Canada, where they could get cheap beer underage. This job was humiliating and degrading, especially the way my boss treated me. But, I was a man, I could handle it. I had to get my little sister into college and to keep my Dad going until retirement, and then… And then, I'd be a used-up tired ass that had wasted his youth.

I pushed the rolling bucket and mop down the hall to see that the mess was mostly liquid. My sense of smell had gotten so good that I could tell what exactly they had been drinking-- Hennessey and probably a vodka. Nice combination. They didn't get too far before ralphing-- at least it was on the tile.

I scooped up the small amount of solid chunks, hands covered in gloves, and started the antiseptic clean up.

The clock in the maintenance room said it was eight o'clock. Ten hours was good enough.

I stripped off the coveralls and put my regular shoes on, emptying my locker of the small amount of possessions I had.

Of course, the Kalaloch Lodge was set up weird- the employee parking lot was down the North Corridor, yet the employee locker room was in the South Corridor. I headed down the opposite hallway to get to the employee parking lot. I checked my phone and, of course, I had a text from Bella, saying she was running late to pick me up. Well damnit.

I walked back into the foyer to see some of the college kids walking around. They were wearing their team sweatshirts, the girls in little sun cover-ups from passing out by the pool.

Coulda been that.

Coulda been the big shit on campus. But sometimes life threw you a curve ball. I couldn't let Dad lose the house. And I couldn't let Bella lose her chance at graduation.

"Em, sweetheart, 'got your paycheck," Sheila said.

"Thanks," I said to the middle-aged redhead behind the front desk. She held up the book for me to sign off on it.

"Can I get a wake-up call at six?" A sultry female voice said behind me.

That voice sounded too foxy to not notice. I turned around to see a gorgeous blonde- like, hella gorgeous- standing behind me. She was wearing short terry-cloth coverup that showed off an amazing pair of legs in high-heels. I wished I could see what that bikini-- by the looks of it, was a string bikini, according to the turquoise straps-- actually looked like on her. Of course, she was a rich-bitch, I could see it in the designer labels on her beach bag and her sunglasses.

"_I_ can call you at six," I said, using a deep, throaty voice, giving her a smile that I knew showed off my dimples.

She glared at me, sliding down her sunglasses, but it slowly faded into a smile. She had amazing silver eyes and she was giving me the most smoldering look. We had an entire conversation in that glance. "I'm unlisted."

"I'm all about privacy, babe," I said. "I got tinted windows in my truck."

She smirked. "I wouldn't put up with this if you didn't have those dimples."

"Hey, Swan," Chris sneered. "The toilet's clogged in the women's shitter in the lobby. You gonna get that?"

Fuck. Where the fuck had Chris come from? "Thanks man, you're a real class act," I snapped.

"Oh, sorry man," he chuckled. "I didn't notice you were out of your janitor's uniform."

The incredible blonde just smiled at me. "See you around," she purred and walked away.

"Aww, too bad," Chris snickered.

"Christopher!" Sheila clucked. "Was that really necessary?"

"She didn't look like she was up for slumming anyway."

I almost jumped across the counter and beat the shit out of Chris, but two things stopped me: my family and the fact that unemployment is at an all-time high around here. Yes, I was happy to have this little crap job. Besides, he was right. Why would she even be interested in slummin' with me?

I just threw Chris my meanest glare. "'Night, Sheila," I said to her as I walked away.

Fuck my life, man.

As I went down the North Corridor, I thought about it. She was probably a co-ed who had a sorority to go home to. I'd tap that and it would be over with in a week. Call me old fashioned, but I liked the chase and a long relationship.

Bella was waiting in the truck, flipping through songs on her old iPod. I wanted to get ahead and buy her a new one and a new laptop she could take to school with her in the fall, but I knew that was a long-shot. I banged on the window, which made her jump. My little sis was an endless source of entertainment. I wished I was in a better mood to enjoy it.

"Hey Sis," I said, opening the door. I sat down on something-- paper, I think; couldn't read it in the dark. "How's it going?"

"We're almost out of Spaghetti O's, but other than that, it's good."

She chose a song by that awful band Muse. I hated Muse but she loved it.

"Ugh," I teased her. "Do you have to play that?"

"Yes, I do," she started the engine. I'd give my sister anything she wanted or needed. She'd always have me wrapped around her little finger.

"Well, I got paid," I said. "We can go grocery shopping."

"Can we get some gas, too?" she asked.

"How much do we need?"

"I'm coasting on fumes, Em."

Damn. There goes my entire paycheck; groceries, gas, and the mortgage. How was it that I just got paid and was still broke?

"You know, Em, I can get an extra job at Carl Jr's," she offered, clearly feeling guilty that I bore the financial burden in the family.

"No," I said. My sister's stacked and nobody in town lets her forget it. "Newton's is bad enough with that pervy little Mike trying to look down your shirt every time you bend over, I don't want Bryan Close doing it too!"

"It would be food," she offered. "Extra burgers at the end of the night. We wouldn't have to grocery shop so often."

I didn't want her to bring home hamburgers she'd paid for with her virtue. My sis was a hot little number around town, and just because she was poor, some of the assholes around town treated her like garbage. That was part of being poor-- everyone sucked towards you when you most needed them to be understanding. "Yeah, grease and french fries. Great way to lard up the fam."

Our house wasn't too far from the Lodge. I got out with Bella and saw that Dad was still sitting in his favorite recliner, watching antenna channels.

"Hey Dad," I called.

"Hey, Son," Dad called back. In the living room, he was still laying in his pajamas and robe. Bella had made dinner for him, the bowl of which, was sitting on the tray beside him, empty. His back injury made me feel all that much guiltier, especially when he never got out of his pajamas. All the doctors told us to watch out for signs of depression and how dangerous it could be.

Dad's back was thrown out, and there went his job as the Police Chief in town. He tried so hard to work through it because he wanted me to go to college on that football scholarship. Once they gave him a pink slip and the workman's comp ran out, that spark in his eye died. Now, he sat at home all day, watching TV until our satellite had been cut off a few months ago. He was a down and depressed man. Especially after I had to give up my scholarship for football.

"Any news on who won?" I asked, attempting to bring him out of this funk. He always got excited about sports- a little ember usually lit up his eyes when I brought it up. But it made me bitter to think about it too long.

"Braves," he muttered.

"Damn," I muttered. That went well.

Dad shifted around in the chair and I saw the pill vial container on the floor. Picking it up, I noticed it was empty.

"Dad, how long have you needed a refill?" I asked. "And don't lie to me!"

"Um…" Dad grimaced. I wondered if it was pain or was it the fact that I had noticed. "A couple of days."

"You know that the doctor said that if you're in pain, you're going to heal slower!" I argued.

"I know," he muttered. "But, I didn't want to be a burden."

"We got some spaghetti O's left over," Bella interrupted from the kitchen. She hated it when we argued and she tended to baby Dad. I didn't want Dad babied- I wanted him to get better.

"Go eat your dinner," Dad barked.

I had the feeling Bella hadn't eaten dinner today. She probably wasn't eating enough in general; she was looking kinda thin. I got out my whey protein powder and filled up a glass with tap water. If only we had fresh milk. But, there was only $3.14 cents left in our checking account this morning.

"Come on, you heard Dad. Eat your dinner."

She handed me the spaghetti O's in a pot over the busted microwave, with a laundry basket of wet clothes balanced on her hip.

"Not hungry," I said.

"Neither am I. I just need to…" She tried to clothespin a worn-out pair of jeans with holes in them to the line draped across the room.

"What's going on here, here?" I asked. "Is the dryer on the fritz again?"

Bella shrugged. "Yeah." I grabbed some wet clothes and clothespins to put them up on the line.

"I got a protein shake. Sit down and eat your Spaghetti O's with me."

Bella took the last of the pasta and sat down at the table, eating them slowly while filling some form out.

"Hey Bells, whatcha doing?" I asked, sitting down at the table to chug my protein powder mixture. I saw it and I immediately snatched it up.

An application for food stamps.

"You can't be serious-" I cried.

"Yes, I am," she said belligerently.

"We're not going on food stamps!" I snapped.

"Yeah, we are. Emmett, you work, what? Fifty, sixty hours a week? You won't let me get a full-time job because you don't want me feeling like I have to contribute to the family income. And we still don't have enough money to buy anything other than Spaghetti O's and coffee. I'm filling this out-- they'll give us three hundred a month towards groceries. An extra three hundred could go really far as long as I keep cutting coupons."

I sighed. Bells was right. We Swans had learned to stretch a dollar.

But the horror of being on a form of welfare… I never thought it would happen to us. Dad was a hard-worker, Bella was the smart one, I was the athletic one who was offered a scholarship for football at U of Washington in Seattle. It all came crashing down with a single back injury two years ago.

"Emmett, it's fine. They'll give us a debit card every month and it'll be just like a checking account. They reload it and nobody would know differently."

I sighed. When Bella decided she wanted to do something, she did it. While she was smart, stubbornness was her trademark- especially when it came to Dad and me. You couldn't sway her.

"I'm going to have a quick workout and go to bed," I said, slurping down the last of my protein shake.

Out in the garage, I turned on Finger Eleven. Paul had given a CD to me as work-out music. I got out a jump rope and began._  
__  
Never tell your friends  
They__'__ll never understand__  
Confessions only burn themselves in the fire__  
Choke on every word__  
That no one__'__s ever heard__  
Your sentimental thoughts are strangled and tired__  
__See it in another light  
You__'__ll see it working out alright__  
I know I won__'__t change any mind__  
As long as they__'__re still changing mine___

As simple as they can_  
They__'__re telling you again__  
What they think you__'__ve done is so unbecoming__  
But you don__'__t have to take __  
Every old mistake__  
And always see it as a fall while you__'__re running_

* * *

Sooner than I thought possible, my alarm clock when off and I groaned. I never felt like I had enough sleep anymore. I got up to have a shit, shower, and shave.

After another breakfast of whey protein and water, I heard the horn honking outside the front door. Paul was waiting with Jared. I picked up my duffle bag and headed outside.

It was a cold, wet morning outside. Nothing unusual for Forks.

The heat in Paul's car was on as I climbed in. "Hey man," Paul said. "You alright?"

"Sure," I said. The only thing on my mind was Bella turning in an application for food stamps and Dad's empty vial of pills. I'm sure it showed.

Paul threw the truck into reverse and we sped off to the Quiluete Indian Reservation.

This was the way most of my mornings were spent; in a run-down gym filled with ancient gym equipment, working on my cardio endurance and jabs. I wasn't the only person working out here.

Sam emerged from the office. "Hey," he said, seeing me putting on my gloves. "You ready for tonight?"

"Sure," I lied, despite the butterflies swarming around in my stomach. "I can do this."

"The hell you can. I'll believe it when I see it."

Well, that made two people that didn't believe in me.

My morning workout left me feeling drained today- like a bar of lead had formed in my stomach. I think it was what was coming up that was making me so nauseous.

After my workout, Paul gave me a ride out to the Lodge where I got dressed in those smelly, God-awful coveralls. I came in an hour early so I could get out early.

I saw the beautiful blonde from last night walking out in that string bikini that hardly covered her up in the right places. And this morning, she wasn't wearing a cover-up- I probably couldn't imagine how hot she was naked. My mind could never do her justice. She strolled past me, and I stayed hidden behind a bush.

My heart broke. She'd never like me seriously. It was slumming and she was just a little too good for me. But goddamn, did she look fine or what? I'd never touch her. Ever.

Chris gave me some shit about clocking in early and asking to leave before my ten hours were up. Fuck that. If I did well tonight, I was going to be able to quit this job… if everything went _well_…

I called Bella to let her know that I wasn't going to need her to pick me up tonight- I was going out. Paul and Jared were waiting for me in their truck at the end of the North Corridor. We all looked like someone had died.

The butterflies in my stomach had turned to rocks. I felt sick at the thought.

The cars weren't going fast enough. I just wanted this to be over with. To know if I could do this or not.

I walked into the dressing room, taking a nervous piss before puking what little contents I had in my stomach up.

Embry passed by me, holding out his fist for me to bump. I did it, despite the sour taste of vomit in the back of my mouth.

I changed into my shorts and running shoes and Jared helped me get my wrists and hands bandaged before applying the giant gloves.

Jacob Black passed by me. He and Sam were the geniuses who came up with this, despite not having all the proper permits. Jake fought for a while, but ended up becoming management, somehow. They managed to evade the law-- and do it well. There were so many people in the stands, I could hear them cheering when the people in the ring got a good hit. I'd known Jake since he was in diapers, back when he wanted to bang my sister. He his parents had lived in a trailer park, and now, Jake bought his mom a little house a few blocks away, leaving his father there to drink himself to death after diabetes took the use of his legs. Jake had money now, and had been dating Bella's best friend Angela for a while. He was probably going to drop out of school and just keep doing this. I wish my life went that fucking well.

"Come on," Sam said, smacking my shoulder. "You're up."

The crowd was pretty smashed and jeered as I walked in. "I've been watching them do this for years," Jared said. "All your puke stuff, it'll either disappear with the first punch or take over. Just remember, you still make something even if you lose."

I nodded as he helped me get the mouth guard in.

"Sam and Jake only take guys they know can do this. They saw something in you," Jared continued. "You'll be fine."

I didn't feel 'fine.'

I walked through the crowd, my skin chilled against the body heat, already sweating.

"You'll be fine," Jared repeated in my ear.

Little Claire Young was in a bikini and high-heels, although she really didn't have the body for it yet at fourteen, holding up a white board that said "Round One," while trying to sway her non-existent hips. I'd be damned if Bella was ever seen doing that. We had some pride.

They let me in under the ropes. I was now in the ring-- it could be my doom or my salvation.

I thought back to my dad and his empty pill bottle, and the truck that sat in our driveway-- its gas gauge on empty. My little sister, taking on the responsibility of food stamps. The empty fridge. The late notices held onto our fridge by an industrial size magnet.

I was more than ready for this.

"Focus on technique," Paul said, smearing Vaseline over my eyes. "Remember what we trained for."

"In the corner, wearing the blue and white shorts, weighing in at two-hundred three pounds is Emmett Swan of Forks, Washington," the announcer said over the crackly PA. "And in the other corner wearing black and gold, weighing in at two hundred seven pounds, from Port Angeles, Washington, is Laurent Harper." I hardly heard my challenger's name-- he was a giant black man with muscles upon muscles and a mean glint in his eyes. He was going to kill me. I shivered. "Overseeing the match is referee Harry Clearwater."

Harper banged his gloved fists over mine and the fight was on.

The bell clanged and, before I knew it, Harper got a good slug into my face.

I had to remember-- be quick on my feet. Retreat first, come back to fight when he was tired of chasing me around. I had put too much work into my endurance to shit out like this. There was a lot of money riding on this fight. Laurent got a few shots in, but he missed mostly. I had to be careful of the low blows and kidney shots and watch out for his fists.

I managed to win Round 1.

Back in my corner, while Claire Young pranced around in her bikini with the white board, Jared took my mouth guard out so I could take a shot of water, swirl it around and spit it out in the bucket. "He's watching you," Paul said. "He's figuring where you fall short, what your habits are-- you gotta keep him guessing-- you gotta get mad. Everything that sucks in your life, you don't take it out on anybody but him. Take it all out, here in the ring, alright?"

I nodded and looked into the bucket. There was pink in the water when I spit out. I shivered and got the mouth guard back in. I hoped I'd see it to round ten. Either that or win by TKO. Son of a bitch got me in the eye and I knew it would swell up.

Round two was a repeat of round one, I just didn't get as many blows in-- I didn't want Laurent figuring me out before I exhausted him and we were stumbling around. I lost round two. Round three I won, but just barely. And then, in round four, it began to wear on me and Laurent got one good punch in that sent my head spinning. He backed me into a corner and before I knew it, he was pounding me and I ended up in his arms, being held against the ropes.

Shit.

I didn't go down.

The bell rang. I'd made it through the round.

I sat down in my corner and Jared removed my mouth piece and pumped water into my mouth. I spit it towards the bucket, but I think most of it got on Jared. "You gotta the brute punches in," Paul said. "Send his head spinning. He's got you in the corner. Clear your head, alright? Can you see out 'your eye?"

"Yeah, right now," I admitted. I knew it was only going to get worse. Jared wiped a trickle of blood off my cheek.

"Breathe," Paul ordered. I gulped in a few lungfuls of air.

I nodded. My vision wasn't quite normal, but I was capable of getting back up. "Stay mad," Sam ordered. "Whatever makes you mad."

And yeah, I was mad.

I had a picture of Dad in his uniform in my locker before this back injury-- there was a twinkle in his eye and pride on his face. Now, he was sitting all day in his bathrobe in front of the TV, trying to watch sports, not wanting to be a burden to us. He went without pain pills because he was afraid of addiction, afraid of the cost, afraid of us not eating yet my paychecks were spent before I even got them cashed. And Bella-- Bella hadn't bought new clothes in months. Not even from the thrift store. What teenage girl didn't get to go shopping? She had had to dump her friend Alice because she didn't want to be the pity friend that Alice had to pay for everything for, since Alice was so rich. Bella had given up friendships and a normal senior year. And it pissed me off. I should be able to provide for my family. My sister should be a normal teenage girl. My dad may have been sick, but his pride was wounded, too. And it pissed me off that we were going on fucking food stamps simply to get by. We were on fucking welfare, Goddamnit. We were the Swan family. We may not have been the most educated family in the world, but we weren't fucking charity cases.

I hardly saw Laurent. I got tunnel vision and began pounding at him.

_Bella. Dad. Food stamps. Past due bills. No money. Broken appliances. No gas in the car._

I got through Round five and was called the winner.

This was the anger I had to tap into. Round six, I tapped into it again- and Laurent fought back just as hard this time.

I got through another two rounds before my eye got too swollen. Sam had to cut me to lance it. I was too enraged to feel the pain. Round nine, I had to get through. I could see Laurent was dragging, exhausted. I was still bouncing on my feet; somehow the anger was fueling me beyond the point of exhaustion.

I thought about Bella, being the poor girl at school. About being picked on. And the way girls could get—and it increased exponentially. All those boys at school telling her she could make an extra twenty-five for a hand job. Who gave them that right, huh? She was still a virgin and didn't fool around. But they talked to her like being poor was an excuse to call her a whore. My sister was not a whore!

I swung hard with all my might, allowing all that pent up anger to flow through my muscles.

And then, I saw Laurent's eyes--he was terrified. He must have been able to sense the blow that was coming. I watched, as if in slow motion, as his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell over onto the mat. Harry began counting. Harper crawled-- over to the ropes, reaching, pulling-- but could not get a grip.

"Nine.... ten! Knock Out!" Harry shouted. He grabbed my glove and lifted it into the air. "Emmett Swan is the winner by Technical Knock Out!"

Things were thrown into the ring at us from the crowd, but a feeling of relief washed over me. I had gotten through it. I had gotten through nine rounds and knocked the son of a bitch out. The exhaustion hit me. All my muscles were screaming and burning in pain. My fists felt like they weighed down my whole body and I wanted to collapse, had there not been blood falling down over my vision.

Sam, Paul and Jared got into the ring and carried me out— literally.

"You were all kinds of fucking scary in the last four or five rounds," Jared said. "Where did that come from?"

"You don't wanna know," I muttered as they dragged me into the locker room. I laid down on the bench. If my whole life depended on this moment, I was one lucky son of a bitch. Either that or an angry SOB. I hadn't known where it came from, but somehow, I survived it.

"Shit, man, I gotta get a shower and get home before Dad knows what I've been doing."

"You gotta get to the hospital," Sam said. "He fucked you up."

"No," I said. "No hospital." All I needed was a record I got the shit knocked out of me. ER visits were expensive, even with our meager health insurance.

Sam helped me to sit up and suddenly, Jared was attacking me with an alcohol soaked-cloth on my eye. I yelped in pain.

"You're going to need stitches," Paul said. "Come on, let's get you to the truck and let's go."

"Let me change clothes, first," I said.

"No time for that," Sam said. "Go with Jared. Come on."

"The money," I muttered.

"I'll settle it," Paul said. "I'll make sure you get your share, man. Jared?" He handed the younger kid his keys.

"Sam'll never screw you," Jared promised, pulling a t-shirt over my head and pulling off my boxing gloves.

I decided to trust them, what other choice did I have? I got up and followed Jared out to the truck, although my head was hazy. "Come on, dude, stay awake," he said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I felt nauseated on the way to the hospital. All I wanted was to sleep, now.

They saw me at the ER and rushed me right through the Triage with whispers that Charlie's son was here and looked like he had been mugged pretty badly. If only they knew. "Man, you guys," I muttered, slipping into sleep.

"Don't let him sleep!" the nurse shouted. "He might have a concussion!"

I sat up and Jared pounded me on the back, occasionally to keep me awake. I puked a few times into a bucket before they took me to get a CT scan to see if I had a concussion. Staying awake was the hardest thing I had ever done. I had to stand up every few minutes, despite the bile that rose. Then, I'd sit back down until I started feeling like I was going to fall asleep again.

Sam finally came to the ER. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I just got the shit beat out of me," I said.

"Laurie's a few stalls down," he said. "Worse for the wear. Man, you were killer. Nobody tonight beat hell like you."

"How'd we do?" I asked.

"We said ten thousand if you went a whole ten rounds," he said. "You only went nine."

"What?" I cried. "I took his ass down!"

"Well, I can walk away and not pay you anything," Sam snarled.

"Fuck this shit," I muttered, rubbing my head.

Sam disappeared.

"We got six K," Jared said. "Here- I'm taking five hundred. Paul and I are getting five hundred each. After locker room fees you made a little over four thousand tonight."

"Four thousand?" I asked. Well, honestly, it was still a lot of money.

"I had to haggle for that," Paul said.

In my head, I started planning out what I could do with that money. I could pay off the bills. I could get Dad more pain meds. I could get the dryer fixed. I could get some fucking gas in the car. There would be money for groceries and Bella could get some new clothes. I felt a flood of relief. I started laughing.

"Are you okay, man?" Jared asked.

"Yeah, never better," I said, despite the exhaustion and the pain. I was fatigued so badly I didn't want to move. "Never better."

* * *

Paul let me skip the next morning at the gym. I had earned it. But nothing excused me from work.

I got up just early enough to get the cash deposited into Dad's checking account before driving to work. I got the truck for the day and filled up the tank. It felt good to know we weren't scraping by… this month, atleast.

I checked in on my schedule and, of course, more than a few college students had puked in their rooms. Leah, a Quiluete girl, was working housekeeping that morning.

"Hey, Em," she purred. "Heard you won a shitload of cash last night."

"It's already spent," I muttered, ignoring her. She'd act like she wanted me until the money ran out.

After cleaning up the puke and other unmentionable materials, I got a call that landscaping needed me by the pool. Shit, pulling double-duty.

The pool was lined with hot chicks in bikinis, lathered up in sun tan oil. I wanted to just smack a few of those firm asses, but I knew that would put my job on the line.

The landscaping needed a little shaping up, and it was like torturing me just to look at them.

Groaning, I kneeled down to trim the rhododendrons, my whole body crying in pain. I trimmed the branches and saw a shadow fall into my vision.

"Nice job last night. I'm shocked you didn't kill yourself."

I turned around to see the gorgeous blonde with a voice that made me want to cry she was so beautiful in her bikini-- three triangles of strategically placed fabric and string placed just right to make me want to cry. She winced when she saw my face. "What the hell were you doing?" she asked. "You could have gotten killed!"

"You were there?" I asked.

She nodded. "My brother has a thing for all kind of athletics," she said. "I play volleyball myself. Hey, why don't you take a break? I've got some sodas."

"Nah, that's okay," I said, thinking of Chris's fat face twisting when he saw me taking a break without his permission.

"Please?" she asked. I couldn't deny a beautiful blonde's pleading.

"Alright. Fifteen minutes," I said. She walked towards a lounge chair, and I simply wanted to cup that firm ass covered up by another flimsy triangle of fabric.

She sat down at one with a towel draped over it and got a Coke out of a cooler, tossing it to me.

"I really don't think should have come into work today," she said as I sat on the end of the chair.

"I'm saving my sick days for when I feel better," I said. I tried to smile, but my face was too bruised and it hurt too much. I pressed the cold can to it for some relief. "Besides, nobody ever pays attention to the help."

She sighed. "You really should think about going legitimate. You've got a real fire. That's what it takes to do something like boxing. Think about it."

"It would be any better?" I asked, thinking of all the hoops I'd have to jump through and all the people I'd have to pay out.

"Yeah," she said. "Underground sports are dangerous."

I shrugged. "They're more profitable."

"You could lose your life," she said. She sighed and crossed her arms. "Look-- um…"

"It's Emmett," I said. "Emmett Swan."

"Emmett… I like that," she said. "Emmett, it's not worth your life."

"You don't know why I fight."

"SWAN!"

"Goddamnit," I muttered under my breath. Chris was standing beside the entrance to the pool, glaring at me. Every opportunity to make a fool of me in front of hot chicks.

"Swan, we don't pay you to sit around--"

"I was just asking this young man to apply some sun oil to my back," the blonde said.

"Miss, that's not his job-- I'd be happy to--"

"He's an employee of your hotel, isn't he?" she asked. "And I want _him_. Not you."

Burn…

She tossed me a bottle of suntan oil and flipped over onto her stomach. "Emmett, can you untie my bikini in the back, too?"

I sure as hell could. I pulled the string and could see a vast amount of side boob. Holy shit, I was being blessed by the gods right now, especially her little moan. Her eyes suddenly flittered open. "Do you mind?" she sneered at Chris.

"If you need anything--"

"I won't," she said. "At least, not from you…" I could have sworn I heard her mutter _perv _under her breath. Chris finally walked away.

I squeezed out some oil into my hand. Fuck me, if her skin wasn't soft with a little bit of muscle underneath. "Thanks," I said.

"No problem," she muttered. "He creeps my shit out. He's a douchebag."

"He's a dick," I agreed. I ran my hands up her sides, brushing her tits. Definitely real. Then, I ran my hands down to her hips, under the strings of her bikini bottoms.

"You give great back rubs," she said. Yeah, if she had me rubbing her down with oil, I'd give her anything she wanted.

I was thinking with my dick, not my head. She was teasing me—and she knew what she was doing. I was going to have to walk around with my fists in my pockets to the lockerroom. "Look, I gotta get back on the clock, beautiful."

"While _Beautiful _is a very nice name, I prefer you to call me _Rosalie_."

I misunderstood her. "Rose?"

"No, Rosalie."

"I'll just call you Rose. A rose by any other name is just as sweet."

"Nice. See you around, Emmett."

* * *

I was definitely going to need a cold shower when I walked in the door.

Dad was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I walked in. "Son?" he asked, seeing my swollen and bruised face. "What happened?"

I shrugged. "I love you, Dad," I said. That was the only explanation I could come up with.

"Emmett, why was there four-thousand extra dollars in our checking account?"

"I don't know," I offered. I hated lying to my family. But I knew he wouldn't encourage this. He had been a police officer for God's sake. I was illegally fighting without a license. "Day before last was payday."

"I doubt anywhere in town pays four-thousand for a week's worth of work," Dad said. "It's not…"

"Not drugs," I said. "And I'm not killing people, either."

Dad's features softened. "Alright."

"I'm gonna go take a shower," I said. "Where's Bells?"

"At Angela's."

I nodded.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you, son."

* * *

_**A/N-Special thanks to my beta, LisaCaptainOfTeamJoseph! You rawk, bb!**_

_**And thank you to SweetLilBullet, who gave me the plot bunny for this one and allowed me to use it.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Percussion Gun

**_Disclaimer-Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._**

**_A/N- Special thanks to my beta, LisaCA707 for her betaing help! Much love XOXO! And don't forget to vote for me at the Writer's Coffee Shop Sport of Love Contest! It's at_**_** twcslibrary [dot] com [slash]**_ _**index [dot] php**_

**_

* * *

_**_Well how do you do?_  
_ The kiss on the cheek_  
_ Its been a while_  
_ So I'll just beg, borrow_  
_ and steal all your time_  
_ we'll crawl dignifed_  
_ And now it seems to be cut and dry_  
_ So I know which way to run_  
_ You're tired my love_  
_ I feel the same_

_ Well take it from me_  
_ What else could you do?_  
_ Where do you get off_  
_ And how can I get there, too?_  
_ All your time we'll call well dignify_  
_ And now it seems to be cut and dry_  
_ So I know which way to run_  
_ You're tired my love_  
_ I feel the same_

-Percussion Gun by the White Rabbits

* * *

The next morning as I was walking into work after the gym, I saw Gary the bellhop carting a dolly of luggage by the front desk. Rose was standing there in a pair of jeans and hoodie, accompanied by dangerously high wooden heels, making her ass propped up to look even hotter. She was signing off on a form, handing over a credit card.

"Hey, Rose!" I cried.

She turned around. "Oh hey, Emmett," she said. There was no look of pain or caught-ya surprise on her face. This had to be bad.

"Rose are you… checking out?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I am. Vacation's over."

"Damnit! I was just…" I was just what? Falling in love with her? That sounded stupid and needy. "Rose, I just got to know you… uh, you know so much about boxing—"

"Hey, Emmett, you know the rules about fraternizing with the patrons," Chris said, suddenly showing up behind us. Goddamn that snarky little son-of-a-bitch. I wanted to punch him in the face.

"I'm not a patron anymore," Rose said, signing the piece of paper Sheila pushed towards her. There was a hint of sympathy in her eyes- I hated that. "See you 'round, Emmett." I can't believe that fucking son of a bitch humiliated me like that. She turned to leave.

I felt myself getting angry, my blood boiling, not even checking if she looked back at me- I couldn't take it, not even look at him.

"Get to work, Swan," Chris said. "Unless you'd like me to dock your pay."

"Go to hell," I replied, squeezing my hands into fists.

"Excuse me?" Chris asked.

"I said 'go to hell,'" I repeated, snarling. "I'm fucking sick of you putting me down all the time, embarrassing me in front of everyone, including the fucking patrons of this hotel!"

A few people stopped, their jaws dropped. For a moment, Chris looked a little scared. I expected him to order me to his office, but the look on his face was showed that he was scared. Good.

"You are the most pompous, disrespectful asshole I've ever worked for!" I continued. "How in the hell did you ever get this position when you're constantly putting everyone down to get your rocks off!" I shoved a sheet of paper off the counter. I realized, a little too late, what I had just done and how stupid it was. "I'm going to the locker room. You can fire me there."

* * *

I had really done it. I took my pictures down out of my locker and put them in my bag. Shit. What was I gonna tell Dad? That I screwed it all up? I just threatened my boss? I had no real excuse. Once I had my locker emptied out, I looked around. No Chris.

I put my coveralls on and went to mop the North Corridor.

I finished with it. Still no Chris.

The garbage needed emptying in the downstairs restrooms and the office and the concierge's desk. I finished with that, but still, no Chris.

There was a call for a clean-up in a bathroom on the 2nd floor.

Still, no Chris.

When it came time for my lunch break, I went down to my locker, feeling pretty amused with myself. I told myself I had gotten off! And then, Chris was waiting at the door to the locker room.

"This way, Swan," he said, indicating the door to his office.

_Oh shit,_ I thought. _It was like going to the principal's office._

"Have a seat," he said, indicating the chair across from his desk. "So, let's talk about this morning, shall we?"

_Sure Dickopotamus,_ I thought. "So, what do you want me to say?" I replied, feeling very, very defensive. I wasn't sorry for calling him an asshole and being disrespectful and referring to him jerking off. This creepy little cock was probably only getting love from his own hand every night and that was why he hated me.

"So, let's talk about the disrespect this morning," he said, fiddling with the contents of his desk, placing them across the desktop in a line, building a wall-- as if it would protect him from me if I suddenly got medieval on his ass. "You said some really strong things."

He wanted me to apologize? He had to be dreaming! "I'm not sorry," I said. "I was being honest. You can't really believe that the way you treat me makes me respect you at all, do you?"

His face went white. "Violent language is never acceptable in a professional work environment, Swan," he choked out. Ho. Ly. Shit. This cocksucker was trying to act like my outburst had been unprovoked? Unbelievable.

"And it goes against the business code of conduct," he continued. "Normally, I should have fired you on the spot. But you know what, Emmett?… I… _like you_? So, uh, I'm just going to give you a warning. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

He was warning me?

"Aw, good," I replied. "Just know that I have the number to corporate and HR. Can I get back to work?"

He didn't say anything. Good. Silence is consent.

* * *

"Whats'a matter with you?" Bella asked as I climbed into the truck.

"Nothing," I muttered. She put the stick-shift into reverse and popped the clutch. I had to smile for the first time since this morning when the engine died and she had to restart it.

"So, what happened to you?" she asked.

"Nothing!"

"Did you get in a fight?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Look, just so you know, Dad had a bad day."

"What?" I cried. "Wasn't he taking his meds? We just refilled them!"

"Yeah, he did," she said. "But, the bed is bad."

"How can a bed be bad?"

"There's not enough support for his back. It's making it hurt worse. I almost gave him two doses this morning."

"Bells, don't," I said. I didn't want_ pain pill addict_ added to my Dad's list of ailments.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" she pleaded.

"Let's move the box springs and mattress from our rooms and see if it makes a difference." I sure as hell wasn't wasting the remaining four thousand I had just earned on a new mattress and box springs. There had to be another solution.

* * *

At home, Bella had made an awesome dinner of chicken and pasta—like real, boneless chicken breasts that weren't Grade D. I could smell it from the entrance of the house. I tried to tell myself so what if food stamps paid for it?. . . But it was still hard to accept.

"Hey Dad," I said.

"Hey Emmett," his voice sounded a bit sleepy.

"Dad, what do you want to drink for dinner?" Bella called from the kitchen.

"I don't think I want dinner," he said. He was definitely doped up. I saw the pill vial opened on the TV tray.

"Dad, did you take another one of these?" I asked.

Dad shrugged.

Shit. He did.

"I'm gonna sleep here tonight," he muttered.

I just couldn't take looking at my father, a drugged-up lump on a recliner in a ratty plaid robe and scruffy pajamas that were just as dirty as he was. I could smell him slightly—he hadn't showered in at least four days.

Bella set an empty glass out beside my protein shake powder tub. She looked a little guilty. "I should have taken the pills away," she whispered. "I hate seeing him like this. We need to do something."

I nodded. "I wish we could."

I thought that four thousand dollars would fix my Dad up. But it didn't. I mixed my protein shake and tossed my spoon in the sink. Money didn't fix everything.

"Em, I'm sorry," Bella begged. She needed me to tell her it wasn't her fault, even though it kind of was. She was Dad's main care-taker when I was working and hadn't been very careful. I wanted to yell at her for being so sloppy with him. But, I couldn't bring myself to scream at my little sis. She looked guilty enough.

"It's alright," I muttered, even though it really wasn't. Chastising someone for screwing up had already gotten me into deep shit today. I didn't want it flowing over into my home life.

But to buy Dad a new bed—a good one— would be at least fifteen hundred. This four thousand was only going to last us four— maybe five— months. That was if I could hold onto my job without telling off Chris again. I needed to take on another fight. That was my goal for next month—to participate in the next boxing event—and win.

* * *

"Emmett, you've got to keep your endurance up," Paul shouted as I ran through the sloggy rain. Cold drops stung my face in the usually unseasonably cold Forks summer weather as Paul ran ahead of me. He had been on the track and cross country team in high school and was a running fool, even now. That was the reason he was so skinny. "Your endurance is for shit, bro."

"Fuck you," I muttered. This was how I spent my day off.

"Almost to the beach, buddy. Once we get there, we turn around and swim the rest of the way back to the gym!"

My foot splashed into a puddle. Damnit, I'd be squishing all day at work tomorrow. The clothes dryer wasn't fixable and we needed a new one, and these shoes would never air-dry in time. I felt like I was going to die when we ran past the expensive beach side houses. Why anybody would want to live on a beach on the Olympic Peninsula was beyond me. It was always cold and raining here. It wasn't like a beach in Florida.

Mom and Dad took Bella and me across country to Mobile, Alabama when we were kids. Dad rented a Winnebago and took turns with Mom driving. This was back before personal DVD players and iPods. We stopped all across the country, seeing different historical sites. Bells and I drove our parents crazy, fighting and arguing until Bella buried her nose in a book and I read Clive Cussler novels to entertain myself.

We saw all sorts of Old West Ghost Towns and the Grand Canyon, camping every chance we got. Secretly, I enjoyed it all. Mom was still her beautiful self and everybody took a second glance at her when she walked by. But looking back, I could see the cracks in their marriage. Dad used to joke that she was too beautiful for him and she finally figured it out. But, he always said that with a pinch of hurt in his voice. And Bells looks just like her even more everyday.

Mom was barely nineteen—how old Bella is now—when she married Dad and it was because she was pregnant with me. Every time Bella meets a boy who is nice to her, I dread the day she gets knocked up and doesn't finish her college degree, just like Mom. Dad left for POST the day after they got back from eloping in Vegas. We lived in this cramped, dirty little apartment until the day I got the news that Bella was on the way. With that, Mom insisted on a house and Dad bought this three bedroom, one bath house in rainy little Forks, not far from his job.

Mom was always flighty: starting new projects every once-in-a-while to satiate her boredom as a housewife. She wasn't much of a mother, anyway. She tried to write a book, tried basket-weaving, tried ballroom dance, tried aerobics . . . nothing did it. Forks was a boring town, not much happened here.

When we went to the beach in Mobile, I think that was the first time I saw it: Mom flirting with a man who wasn't Dad when she thought we weren't looking. I was just old enough to be able to spot it. I felt violated, knowing what she was doing.

Our trip ended up with Mom and Dad arriving home, announcing they were calling it quits.

Mom stuck around Forks for a while longer, while Dad slept on the couch in an effort to keep our family under the same roof. Mom got a job as a waitress at the local diner, but it all went to hell when the the Phoenix Diamonds passed through town. According to her co-workers, she was so flattered people thought she was younger than she actually was that when a 20-year-old baseball player named Phil asked her what college she went to, she fell for him. She ran off with him when they came back though from Vancouver a few months later and that was the last I ever saw of my mother-- until she became Mrs. Phillip Dwyer and had us flown down to Phoenix when she could afford it. She never accepted Dad's offer to help out with the costs.

And we rarely saw her. She was enjoying her life as a 'younger' wife with a big, semi-pro baseball player. The last thing I heard was that she had gotten pregnant and was going to try the 'family thing' once more. I didn't know if she'd had my little half brother or sister yet, and frankly, I cut her out of my life so it didn't hurt any more. Mom could take a hike for all I cared. It kept me from reliving that violated feeling of my family being torn apart.

"You zoning out on me, man?" Paul asked over his shoulder.

I recognized the stitch in my side from trying to run so hard. And, my usual aches and pains in my stiff neck and shoulders were there, too. "Yeah," I wheezed. I slowed down and paced myself. We had made a loop from the gym, coming down the beach and we'd come out closer to the gym when we came off the beach trail. I just had to run though all these rich people's beaches and by their houses.

The rain sort of lessened when we passed into the more rocky section of the beach.

I ran behind, trying to keep up with him. This was the last leg and he was killing me.

A woman in a parka was coming out from one of the houses. She wasn't half-bad, her legs were long and lean. Just like how I liked them—and that ass—goddamn, why did rich women have such perfect asses?

"Let's pass her," Paul said.

"I like the view from here," I responded.

"Nah, let's do this," he said, picking up the pace.

_Damnit, Paul. You have to ruin everything._

Paul ran and I tried to keep up with him. She did too, glancing back at us, I thought she heard him. She started running faster to stay ahead.

Paul wasn't giving up.

Her stride lengthened. I couldn't see much aside from that voluptuous heart-shaped behind bouncing in those tiny little low-rise booty shorts. I could run behind her all day, but Paul had different plans.

She lengthened her stride even more, picking up the pace.

Damn, this chick was hard-core.

At this point, I really knew I really shouldn't pass her, not at this point. But, Paul had every intention of passing her. I had to keep up with Paul or he was going to keep on ragging me about how bad my endurance was and shit. What a choice.

"Emmett, come on!" Paul shouted.

At that moment, I tripped over something—it might have been driftwood or a rock. I tried to catch myself, but my leg wouldn't come around fast enough to the front to put my foot down. I felt my knee hit the rocky sand and the world went vertical, my face smashed into the sand. A grunt came out of my mouth from the base of my chest. I braced my torso for the fall with my hands. I was on all fours before I realized it. I cursed as I landed.

"Emmett!" Paul cried, slowing down and stopping. He ran back to me.

I heaved, aching all over. "I told you not to pass her," I growled.

"You hurt?" Paul asked.

"No," I scoffed, rolling over to sit on my butt. I looked up to see that hot little runner coming back to me. Oh God-- great. She was coming back to see me wallow in the sand, crying over falling.

Just perfect.

"Emmett?"

I heard her voice, it was familiar. I recognized the beautiful face and pillowy pout. Oh shit.

"Rose?" I asked. I didn't know what else to say. "Uh, hi…"

She knelt down beside me. I saw her face under the hood and felt stupid for ever trying to pass her. No wonder that ass was so hot; it was Rose's. "What were you clowns doing?" she snarled, her eyes narrowing to slits at gazing at either one of us.

"Trying to get back to the gym," Paul answered.

"You were trying to pass me! That wasn't very polite, I heard you!"

"His idea," I said, trying to pass the blame. I had been perfectly content with the scenery the way it had been.

She looked pissed off. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

I rolled up my nylon pants and checked my knees. There were scrapes; I had obviously landed on rock. "A little?"

"Come on, let's go back to my house," she said, helping me up.

Score.

"You've got a work-out to complete," Paul said.

"No he doesn't! Emmett, have you ever been adjusted by a chiropractor?" she asked.

"Uh… no. Aren't they witch doctors?" I joked.

"No, my Dad is not a witch doctor or a Voo Doo shaman, although he's heard it all before," she said, her eyes narrowing. Oh shit. "Look, Dad'll take a look at you."

"No way," I said, holding up my scraped-up hands.

"He's an MD and a DO," she said. "He was the sports physician for the Cincinnati Bengals. He knows athletes."

"Who else do you know?" I snorted, thinking of famous football players he must have worked with. Ah, the irony.

I followed her to the McMansion overlooking the beach. It was a log mansion with a big porch facing the ocean.

I took off my soaked hoodie, following her lead as she hung it on one of the rungs and bent over to remove her shoes. Paul did the same. My nylon pants were soaked, so I removed them, leaving my gym shorts on and kicked off my soaked sneakers, but not before taking a gander at those plump little tambourines up in the air.

"Dad?" Rose called, opening the door. "Dad, are you home?"

"Huh? Rosie, I thought you were going for a run," a masculine voice responded.

As I looked around I recognized the rustic cabin theme that had obviously been taken up a few notches with its expensive and glamorous upgrades—these people must be loaded. "No, Dad, there was an accident on the beach, can you look at them?"

"What accident?" A tall, burly, strong man asked as he came into the room. He was wearing sweatpants and a tank top with a bandana around his head. He was almost as tall as me.

"I fell," I said sheepishly.

"Just bring home every wayward pup that needs a home, huh, Rosie?" he joked.

"Uh, Dad," Rose sighed. "He just fell, that's all. Dad, this is Emmett."

"Nick Hale," he said, extending a hand to me. "Nice to meet ya. Come on, let's see the damage. Need a towel?"

"Yeah," I admitted. I toweled off my dripping hair with the towel he threw me.

"So, looks like you fell pretty hard," he said. "Rose, go get the first aid kit. Come on, sit down Emmett." I sat down on the couch and Rose came back with the first aid kit. "So, what are you two running for?"

"I'm um…"

"He's an underground boxer," Rose answered.

"Thanks," I told her.

"Anytime," Rose replied.

Nick's eyebrows raised. "Really?" he asked. "That's not a great idea, kid."

"He wins," Rose said. There was no expression on her face- she was waiting for her dad's reaction.

"Rosie, what have you and Jas been up to?" He tried to sound like he was joking, but I knew he really wasn't.

"Forks is pretty boring when all you can do is hangout by an indoor pool," Rosalie answered. "There's not even good shopping here!"

"Oh really? Do you know how dangerous underground sports can be?" he shot back to her.

"Would you prefer for me to do drugs instead?"

"Don't be a smart-ass," he said, bandaging my cleaned wound on my knee. He was pretty good at it. "So, Emmett, how's your back? Getting any aches and pains in weird areas on your body?"

"My neck mostly. I think it's just old age," I joked.

"Anything else?"

"A stitch in my side when I run."

"Huh. Have you ever been in a car accident?"

"Well, a few," I said. "Nothing too severe."

"Tell me about it." He got out a clipboard and started taking notes.

"Uh, I was going down Spartan Avenue when Jack Mallory t-boned me."

"How fast were you going?"

"Uh, probably like forty miles an hour?"

"Let me check your range of motion. Come on, my examining table is in the basement." Isn't that was serial boy rapists told people? There's candy in my basement? Hell, I was determined to retain my anal virginity.

"It's fine, I got my first chiropractic adjustment when I was only two days old," Rose said.

I followed the big, muscular man down to the basement, Paul went with me.

"Look, I gotta call Embry and Seth and let them know we're on our way back," Paul said on the stairs. The downstairs opened up to a white-walled, white-carpeted area with lots of exercise equipment and a padded table.

"Sure thing, let 'em know," I said.

"I like to get x-rays and full exams done so I know what I'm working with as a chiropractor, but I'm going to just adjust you so you feel better."

"Nah, I'm fine," I insisted.

"No just let me try it," Nick said.

I shouldn't decline. It was a nice offer. "All right, just this once," I said.

"Sit here," he said, indicating the blue padded table.

He took measurements of how I could bend and stretch and rotate my head.

"Yeah," I said.

"Let me try to adjust it," he said. "Lay down on your stomach."

I heard a lot of shuffling around and then the phone rang. "I'll get it," Rose said.

I felt his fingers poking around my back, and then his hands pressed down on the small. "You're really tense in the lower back," he said. "I want you to breathe out, hard as you can." I exhaled and suddenly, he pressed down. I grunted in surprise, hearing a crack in my back. His hands came up to my mid-back. "Breathe out." He pressed down, another crack. His hands went up to my upper back. "Breathe out." Again, another crack. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not, but then, he did my neck. "All right, on your side." He positioned me so that I was holding my fist, my lower leg that I was laying on was bent. He pressed down on the side of my hip and there was a sensation I had never felt it before—something literally popped back into place in my back.

Something had been out of place for a long time and I had just thought it was part of just getting older. I flipped over and he did it again on the other side. "Whoa," I muttered.

"See?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do. That actually… it actually feels kinda nice."

"Good," he said. "Let's adjust your neck and head." He put me in a chair and took my head in the snap-his-neck position. "Relax. Relax…"

"I'm not so sure about this," I said.

"Injury from chiropractic adjustment is very, very rare," he said. "You know, Aristotle said that the key to all ailments was in the spine. Let's try this. Your lower back feels great, doesn't it?"

Well, it did. I relaxed my head and neck, and he snapped it to the side. It was a popping sensation, similar to what he did while I was on my side. I yelped in surprise. He took my head again, "Relax, relax…" He snapped it in the other direction. "All right, how do you feel now?"

I stood up and rubbed my neck. The stiff sensation was gone. So was the stitch in my side.

"Wow," I muttered. "I actually feel good."

"No meds, no surgery. Now, let's discuss this underground boxing."

"Nah," I said. Rich people tended to get really chummy with the police, us po'folk were screwed.

"Look, I'm not going to get you busted," he said. "I did boxing for a while in college before I starting studying medicine, along with weight-lifting. You have my word."

"I love it," I insisted. "I make more money in one night than I do in a month at my day job."

"What do you get for it?"

"Well, ten-thousand if I can last ten rounds," I said. "Four thousand if I don't."

His lips twisted. "You know, you can make upwards of a hundred thousand if you do it professionally."

"Sure, after I fight my way up over two years in matches that barely pay a thousand a night, just hoping that someone will notice me. No thanks. I got too much to worry about it."

"Look, um…"

"Emmett," I said.

"Emmett, you're going to get yourself killed. Nobody adheres to rules in these underground boxing fights," he said. "If the cops ever bust you, you'll never get the chance to fight in a professional boxing match, then."

I sighed. "No, I'm going to keep doing this," I said.

"So, you're in it for the money?" he asked. "Come on. The money will come with time and patience."

"I need money now, lots of it!"

"You're not doing steroids are you?"

"No! No! Never! All me," I flexed my arms and posed for him. I checked behind me, almost imperceptibly, to see if Rose was watching the gun show. She was writing something down in a notebook while on the phone and wasn't looking in my direction. Damn.

"What's the real story, Emmett? Come on, I can send you a bill for an adjustment if you don't talk."

I sighed. Blackmail. "My Dad's back is thrown out. He can't get disability anymore and we're on food stamps—"

"Bring him by!" Nick boomed. "I'll see what I can do for him."

"No, my Dad's not that well off," I said. "I mean, he's sick. He's so depressed, he only showers like, twice a week because it hurts him to stand up for that long."

"I bet he's got a ruptured disk," he said. "You feel better, don't you? Let me see what I can do for him."

The idea that he was promising some kind of miracle seemed stupid to me. "Look, I made my money. I've got this huge house on the beach and I'm retired at fifty . . . I've got to do something to keep myself out of trouble. Let me try to help him. Haven't you tried everything else?"

"Yeah. The doctors said there wasn't much they could do for him."

"That's because chiropractic has been frowned on by western medicine for thousands of years. Just bring him by. I'm not going to charge him. What did he used to do before his back went out?"

"He was the Chief of Police in Forks," I said.

He nodded. "That's a huge fall from what he used to be, isn't it?"

I had to agree. "Yeah."

"Bring himby- the football players on the Bengals almost never needed surgery for their injuries because I was adjusting their joints. It'll help you heal and last longer. Just have him come by sometime."

"Sure," I said. "You got me. I'll drag him down here as soon as possible."

"I'm available this afternoon."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm just going to go shopping for a new grill cover, that's the highlight of my day."

"Okay… sure, I'll drag him down here."

"Alright, see ya."

On my way out, I saw Rose wasn't downstairs anymore. She was chatting with Paul when I got upstairs.

I felt a pang of jealousy. She was laughing and talking to him. And I thought about how Chris humiliated me the last time we saw each other.

"Hey man," I said to Paul.

"Hey," he said, looking up.

Rose looked up too, she was in sweaty, damp work-out clothes and she was still freaking gorgeous. She smiled at me.

I wish I knew how she felt about me after Chris had humiliated me. I couldn't.

"So, you two are going to go back to the gym?" she asked.

"Yeah," Paul said. "We were due back about forty-five minutes ago. Come on, let's get ready to go." He left out the beach-front door.

Rose grabbed my arm as he went outside.

"Well, Emmett, you can come back anytime," she said. She smiled at me.

"Yeah, sure," I said. "See you around."

* * *

After I finished my workout, I realized that I worked out better, harder.

Paul gave me a ride home and Bella was making lunch. "Where have you been?" she cried. "Paul, come in-- I'll make you a sandwich."

"No thanks," Paul said. "I'll see you later, Bella." I saw the son of a bitch wink at her. He was never getting into my sister's pants. Ever. I'd castrate him myself if he did.

"Got side-tracked in my workout. But, it was a good one."

Bella took the sandwich she made into the living room. Dad was a lump on the recliner still. "Thanks, Bells," he said.

She set a bologna sandwich down in front of me. I took a bite.

"Mmm! Cheese!" I cried, surprised.

"Yeah, aren't food stamps great?" she asked, rolling her eyes, sitting down beside me. "Mmm," she said, taking a bite. "This is really good. And I got chips, too!"

"Where!?" I cried, like a ravenous wolf. I tried to smell them out in the cabinets.

"In the cabinet by the fridge," she said.

I proceeded to tell her about meeting Dr. Nick on the beach and how he adjusted me while I inhaled some crispy Lay's potato chips.

"He didn't snap your neck?!" she cried.

"It was really great," I said. "Nothing hurts!"

"I'm so sure. Look, you stink-- go take a shower."

"Just let me finish off this bag…"

"Forget it!" she cried, snatching it away. "Let's make this last!"

After a shower, I had renewed energy. Downstairs, I sat down on the couch across from Dad so I could talk him into going to see Nick.

"Hey Dad," I said.

"How's it going, Em?" he asked.

"Good," I said. "Dad, I met a doctor today… uh, he'd like to meet you."

"Another doc? What kind?" he grumbled.

"He was into sports medicine and chiropractic. He's retired, but still has his license to practice; he adjusted me and said he'd like to meet you to see what he could do for you."

"Ugh, Em," he scoffed. "Those guys are Voo Doo doctors. They break people's necks all the time."

"I'm feeling really good since he did my back this morning," I said. "Give it a try?"

"I'm fine right here. I'm not needing so many of the pain meds today," he said.

"Dad, please?" I begged, desperate to see some improvement in him. He was my father, for God's sakes.

"He'll kill me!"

"He didn't kill me! Just see if he can make a difference."

"Em, no."

"Dad—"

"Emmett!" he barked. "I said no!"

I realized what he was saying. I had no chance here. Damnit. "Fine, just sit on the couch in four-day-old clothes. I guess you're comfortable like this," I snapped, getting up. "Way to take care of your family."

"Emmett!" Dad yelled as I walked away. "Emmett!"


	3. Chapter 3: This Ain't a Love Song

**_Disclaimer-Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._**

**_A/N- Special thanks to my beta, LisaCA707 for her betaing help! Much love XOXO! It looks like I'm taking home 3rd place in Sport of Love Contest. Well, I'll display anything win on my profile. I've fallen in love with the phrase "Wizard of Ass" after Betty White hosted SNL, so be prepared.  
_**

**_

* * *

_**_Every night I remember that event_  
_ The way you looked when you said you were leaving_  
_ The way you cried as you turned to walk away_  
_ The cruel words and the false accusations_  
_ The mean looks and the same old frustrations_  
_ I never thought that we'd throw it all away_  
_ But we threw it all away._

_ And I'm a little bit lost without you_  
_ And I'm a bloody big mess inside_  
_ And I'm a little bit lost without you_  
_ This ain't a love song this is goodbye_  
_ This ain't a love song this is goodbye_

-This Ain't a Love Song by Scouting for Girls

* * *

Dad and I weren't on speaking terms for a few more days. I was disappointed that Dad wasn't going to search a little harder to get better. I guess he was just reveling in his injury and being a victim.

Like every morning, I got up, dressed in gym clothes and made some scrambled eggs to go with my protein shake. It was nice getting more calories in for once. But, I hated that they came from welfare.

Paul picked me up. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Good enough," I said. "Look, when's the next fight night?"

Paul shrugged. "Two weeks," he said. "You think you're up for it?"

"No, but I need it."

"Don't overdo it, Em," he said.

"I never do."

* * *

Chris continued to be scared of me at work, which helped a lot. I did my work without complaint and he wasn't harassing me so much. We didn't talk at all, aside from him giving me orders, which helped things.

I did the math in my head, thinking about how many fights I could do to earn enough money to get Bella set up into college and pay off the mortgage. If we just had the mortgage paid off, I wouldn't have to work fifty and sixty hours a week. I could take Bella's job at Newton's, put that little Wizard of Ass kid in his place and just make sure Dad got by.

I was still pissed at Dad for not going with me to see Dr. Nick. I really felt like Dad could improve enough to where he could enjoy life again. He hadn't been fishing in almost four years. We used to spend every Saturday in the summer in his little motorboat on the lake, fishing, just him and me. Those were some of my best summers in my life. Maybe, if Dad started feeling better, we could do that again. Although, I'd still lost out on a lot in my own life. I didn't want to be bitter about it, but it was hard not to be.

* * *

My stomach rumbled and I thought about the upcoming fight. In the past two weeks, I had worked on my endurance and tried to beef up the guns. I was beginning to get some aches and soreness back in my neck and lower back, but I didn't want to go over to Nick's to take advantage of his generosity.

Of course, I didn't feel cocky about tonight's fight. Sam and Jacob put me up first against some hyper-ass mother fucker who looked like he was on coke, all twitchy and shit in the locker room.

"Hey man," Embry said as I sat down on the bench. He started wrapping my knuckles.

"Hey," I said.

"So, what's this I hear about a hot blonde who out ran you and Paul?"

"Shut the fuck up," I said. "I stayed behind because her ass looked so good."

"So you're an ass man?"

"Since I met this girl, I'm an _everything_ man, now."

"I heard you fell like a little girl," he said.

"Eat me."

"You're up in ten," he reminded me.

He helped me get my gloves on.

I took a moment to breathe and think about what I was going to do. I had the endurance and the strength, but, what if this meth-head had more strength than he seemed to have?

"Lady coming through!" someone yelled. "Hey, lady coming through!"

"Emmett?"

I saw Rosalie coming into the locker room with her father.

"What are you doing here?" I cried.

"You going through with this again?" Dr. Nick asked. "Emmett, how are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "Eh."

"Let me adjust your neck real quick," he said. "Come on, sit down."

I did as he told me to and he came up behind me, taking my head. "Relax, relax…" He snapped my head to the side and took it to crack it the other way. "Better?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Let's get your upper back… damnit if I don't have a table." He managed to adjust my lower back standing up, and I felt like a new man. "Why didn't you come by after your father said no?"  
I had called him and I thought that was enough. "I don't have good insurance," I said. "They wouldn't cover me."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "A couple of bucks is fine."

"Swan, you're up," Embry said.

"Gotta go," I said.

I noticed I was more attentive as Paul, Seth and I went out. "We'll be in the audience," Rosalie called after me. "Good luck!"

The crowd was rowdier than usual tonight. I few things were thrown, but not stuff like glass bottles or anything, just stuff like hot dog wrappers and popcorn boxes. I climbed up into the ring and Seth helped me get the jaw piece in to protect my teeth.

They had Jessica Stanley, that fat-ass chick who'd asked Bella how much her boobs made her, doing the bikini girl duties tonight. She was sucking it in so much it wasn't even funny. She was turning blue and looked like a clod in those heels. I wished Bella could be here to see her and laugh at her. _So, Jessica, how much ARE those tits__ of__ yours making for you?_  
I saw the meth head climb into the ring as Seth put Vaseline over my eye sockets.

"Tonight's first fight is Emmett Swan of Forks, Washington, the winner of the middle-weight fight on the night of the 2nd of June, weighing in at two-hundred eleven pounds in the red and white shorts. And in the other corner, weighing in at one ninety-six, is Kevin Helman from Hoquiam, Washington, wearing the blue and gold. Over-seeing the match as referee is Mark Kleneman. Competitors, are you ready?"

I got up and went to the middle of the ring. Meth head did, too. I slammed my gloves down on top of his. "Let's do this, punk," I muttered through my mouthpiece.

Last time, my anger saved me. I had wasted so much of it on Chris the week after my first fight, like a dumbass. I knew I had to save it all up for moments like this.

Jessica came around with the white board, her jelly belly sucked up.

I had to think about the things that made me mad and make this last for ten rounds to get the full ten thousand. Bella not taking care of Dad. Dad taking too many pain pills instead of just going to Dr. Nick. Chris being a complete douchebag and putting me on discipline after his shithead behavior towards me.

The bell rang and I let the rage seep out.

The meth head immediately took a jab at my face. I dodged him, but just barely. I took a swipe and darted away. He was just as fast on his feet and he got me pretty damn good in the eye. He punched pretty hard—I assumed that was because of the meth. I hit him in the nose and he immediately started spurting out blood.

The bell dinged. I won round one.

Jessica strutted her poofy belly around the ring, sign held high, indicating the start of the second round. Stupid little whore. She picked on Bella for no good reason other than she was jealous of her tits. At least my little sister didn't parade them around for men. What made me angrier was the fact that I _knew_ that Jessica slept around—often, but called my sister a slut just because of how she was built. I let my anger take over my body as I heard the bell ring. Apparently my anger had taken me over completely, as I realized I had Meth Head in the corner and was pounding him. He covered his head and I knew I had him because he grabbed the ropes. I won Round 2.

Seth took out my mouthpiece in the corner and gave me a swallow of water to swish around my mouth. "He's got power, you gotta watch out for that," Paul said. I glared at Meth Head in the corner. I knew I could beat this punk. "He'll come around later, trust me."

"Shit, man," I said. "He's probably putting it all out there up front. He won't be pretty in round 7 when he starts coming down."

Round three, I won because Meth Head started fighting dirty. He hit me in the head with his elbow, which the ref called as a foul. I felt like Meth Head was holding out on something. Like he had some kind of magic ability to beat me and was just faking me out, wearing me down early on.

Round four and five I won, but by six, the fatigue was setting in. I lost six, but on seven, my eye started swelling up. I had to work fast and hard. I just barely got him on all his fouls: ducking below my waist, hitting me in the belt and shoving me with an open-hand. That was an immediate forfeit after three fouls. He liked to play dirty thinking the ref wouldn't see it.

We squared off again, and I thought about how frustrating Dad was being. I just wanted to punch him. Dr. Nick had helped me to prepare tonight, yet Dad was throwing it back in my face.

He liked that fucking welfare. Dad, welfare, Dad, welfare. Goddamn fucking ass-raping welfare!

For a moment, I saw Dad's head on Meth Head's shoulders and, for once, I slammed my fist into his face. The bastard came back almost super-human-like.

He was so much stronger than I thought. He _had_ been saving it up. I wondered what was in his water. He pounded me so hard I thought I'd never get up.

_Come on, Dad, just try it once. _

_Emmett, I said 'no!' _

_Fucking shit. Just be a drain on society while I have to take care of you! _

I fought back as hard as I could.

_Whining over the mattress, doubling up your pain meds, giving into the depression- god damnit, Dad! I just got four thousand dollars and I'm going to have to waste it on a new mattress because you're so dead inside and don't want to try?_

I took a swing and Meth Head fell.

Oh shit. I didn't mean to. I wanted the ten thousand.

"One, two, three-"

Meth Head got up— slowly.

Mark gave me the round. Meth Head was bringing his A Game on me this late. I had been wrong.

Round nine, I'd let him win it, but I wouldn't give in completely and then knock his shit out in round 10.

I let him back me into the corner to think he was winning and Mark gave him the round.

The tenth round was when I'd bring my fucking 'A game.'

"Emmett! Emmett!" a girl in the audience screamed over the noise. I wanted it to be Rosalie. I was a bit woozy at this point, but I had to win—had to keep my head in the game.

Meth Head tried to sneak in a punch from the left side, but I hit him back, thinking about Mom. Mom left. Selfish bitch. Trying to relive her life, like she screwed up in the first place. Having another kid because she wanted something other than Bella and me. Leaving Dad simply because she couldn't stop fucking other people.

I hit back harder, a jab striking Meth Head in the bloodied face. He was like the fucking bionic man on all this Meth. Shit. I punched again, again, him not feeling anything. I winced and pulled back. Meth Head came after me; I had to end this with a win.

I hoped Chris was watching. I wanted to see him scared of me. I sucked in air and fought back as hard as I could.

_Don't think, just fight,_ I told myself.

Meth Head hit me so hard my head knocked back. I yelped and caught my head from slinging back. I punched back, first in the gut and then with the other fist into his cheek. He sputtered and spit out his mouthpiece and, I realized, a couple of teeth with it.

Gross.

The bell rang. I realized the 3 minutes were up. And I had won the round.

"Winner- Emmett Swan!" Mark said, grabbing my wrist, holding my hand up.

I laughed in relief. I won. I really won.

Paul and Seth ran in and helped to get my mouth piece out. The crowd was going insane; I couldn't even take time to enjoy the victory because and I had a headache and was dizzy.  
I groaned and had to drape an arm around Paul's shoulder, who was cheering and hooting like _he_ just won.

Meth Head backed into a corner and collapsed while he took the sting of loss.

Paul got me out of the ring and we went to the locker room.

Rose came in with Nick, who took a look at me. "Jesus, Emmett!" he cried, getting out a pencil flashlight, making me follow the light with my eyes. "That kid looked like he was hopped up on something! Don't you know what could happen if he gets blood on you?"

I had never thought of that.

"There's a reason why this illegal," he continued. "There's no drug or blood testing, he could infect you with some kind of disease like AIDs if you get exposed to his blood! Or go up against some sick fuck using steroids! What the hell was that kid on, anyway?"

"Let's get Emmett checked out," Rosalie said.

"I'm a doctor, I did this for twenty years, Rose," Nick snapped. "Yeah, you have a good knock on the noggin. Let's go."

I knew from last time, there was no fighting it.

"Let me get paid, first," I slurred.

"That's going to be after the night's over," Paul said. "You don't want to wait that long."

"I better get the full ten thousand," I barked.

"When have we ever screwed you?" Paul asked. "Go."

Nick had to put a hoodie on me and slipped an arm around my back to keep me upright. Rose had gone to pull the car around.

The black Escalade was really nice on the inside. Rose was behind the wheel and Nick left me in the back to ride shotgun.

"How are we doing?" Rosalie asked.

"Drive fast," Nick said.

She stepped on the gas and I felt the world lurch.

The ride seemed to take forever and every time I started to nod off, Nick woke me up and blared loud music.

They waved me through Triage and I laid down on the examining table.

"Don't you understand how dangerous this is?" Nick asked. "You really have to decide— go pro or you're signing your own death sentence!"

"Dad, calm down, he's probably not even awake."

I groaned and tried to sit up.

"So, Emmett," Dr. Gerandy said, pulling aside the curtain to the cubicle. "You get mugged again?"

"Yeah, by a midget," I responded.

"Don't listen to him," Nick responded. "He's been knocked on the head a few times too many."

"I know," Gerandy said. "CT Scan, standard. Emmett, you know you're going to have some serious brain damage if you keep this up. Whatever it is."  
"I know," I said. Of course, everybody in town knew but nobody talked about it. I betcha the Forks PD was in on the betting too.

Since it was a slow night, they put me into the CT quickly. Apparently, I just had a bad knock on the head. This wasn't as bad as last time, Dr. Gerandy informed us. I was pretty busted up, though. I had some scalp stitches and they sent me packing.

While I waited for release papers, Paul and Seth came in.

"How did I do?" I asked Seth.

"We got the full ten," he said.

I high-fived Paul and then Seth. I owed them the ten percent and then I'd pay off the gym membership for the year. The rest of that was going back into the bank—not the family's account, but a new one I'd open tomorrow. I didn't want to tip anybody off. But not before a long nap and a shower.

"I want to sleep," I said. "Take me home?"

"Sure," Paul said.

"Call me in the morning," Nick said.

"Good night, Emmett," Rose said.

"Bye, Rose," I said, seeing her walk away with her father. She hardly spoke to me.

Damn. She hated me.


	4. Chapter 4: More Than Words

**_Disclaimer-Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._**

**_A/N- Special thanks to my beta, LisaCA707 for her betaing help! Much love XOXO! Here's your cup of coffee, babe! Love ya!  
_**

**_

* * *

_**

_Saying I love you_  
_Is not the words I want to hear from you_  
_It's not that I want you_  
_Not to say, but if you only knew_  
_How easy it would be to show me how you feel_  
_More than worlds is all you have to do to make it real_  
_Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me_  
_'Cause I'd already know._

More than Words- Extreme

* * *

I'd never been so happy to have a day off after the fight. I opened my eyes. Ah, I really had slept in. I rolled over and looked at the clock, seeing it was seven-thirty. I used to sleep in until ten on the weekends in high school.

And then I realized how much I hurt after the fight. My stitches itched and ached. I groaned and stood up, feeling my back crack and make snapping noises.

Bella was in the bathroom and had the door locked. I knocked on it. "Be out in a minute!" Bella called.

"Bells, I gotta take a piss!"

"Whatever! I'll be out soon!"

"Come on!"

"The pee is going back up with you harassing me!"

"That doesn't happen with girls!"

I heard the toilet flush and then… she stopped to wash her hands just to mock me.

"Bells, come on!"

"I'll only be a minute!"

"You're killing me!"

The bathroom door opened and Bella's face went shocked. "Emmett!" she cried. "What happened?"

"Move, woman, unless you want a puddle of piss on the floor!"

I shoved past her and got to the toilet; I didn't care if I was peeing in front of my sister. I untied the waistband of my sweatpants and whipped out little Emmers. The flood gate opened.

"God, Emmett, did you get beat up again?"

"No, just let me piss in peace, alright?" I wasn't above purposefully farting while I peed to gross her out so she'd run out of the room. "Will you get out?"

"I'm going back to bed," Bella replied, yawning. "I expect a full explanation of what happened when I get up."

"Yeah, yeah," I told the closing door.

"And I need the truck this afternoon!"

"Whatever!"

In the kitchen, I ate a breakfast bar and then put the coffee on.

I called Nick. "How you feeling?" Nick asked.

"Like I got rolled over by a steampress. I keep forgetting how much stitches hurt."

"Look, why don't you come over and get adjusted?"

"Actually, that sounds good. But, not the whole morning, okay?" I asked, considering our truck.

"That's fine, that's fine, just whenever you get here."

I finished breakfast, brushed my teeth and shaved. I left a note on the fridge saying I'd be home before noon and grabbed the keys.

At the beach, I knocked on the door to the Hale's house. Dr. Nick answered.

"'Morning," he said. "Come on in." I glanced around, hoping to see Rose's ass in the air, stretching for a morning run. "Nobody's up," Nick said, seeing my glance around as I entered the house. "Let me adjust you," he said as I walked through the living room. "Downstairs. I can tell Rose you're here. She's sleeping in."

"Nah, that's okay, let her sleep."

"She needs to get up. She's being lazy," he said.

"Hey, it's her summer break."

"And if she spends her entire summer break sleeping in, she'll never get to her 8 o'clock classes in the fall."

"Where does she go?"

"Lewis and Clark in Portland. I thought it was a bad idea, but she likes the intensity. Jasper goes to George Fox."

"Your son?"

"Yeah." He flung a few ropes over the table in the basement. They looked like S&M torture devices. "He's been around, he stays at a friend's house in Port A most of the time. He's the more studious of the two of them, though. Okay, get up on the table."

I glanced back and forth between him and the straps.

"It's back traction," he said. "I'm going to turn on some rollers so your spine is relaxed."

Well, I could try anything once.

He buckled the straps around my middle really, really tightly and fiddled with some stuff over my head and at my feet. "This actually is one of the most popular treatments," he said, turning on the rollers under my back. I felt the giant rollers run up and down my spine. "On a scale from one to ten, how did your neck feel this morning?"

I went over all the parts of the spine, trying not to be too generous with the pain. My spine was feeling tons better with those roller balls going up and down it. I didn't care if I looked like I was in bondage under a giant muscle-bound man. Hey, at least he wasn't wearing a black leather newsboy cap.

"Um… probably a five," I guessed. We went over all the sections of my back and my headaches.

"So, you're not feeling too good," he said. "No surprise. Boxing is a hard sport on the body. What I'm doing right now is precautionary care. Most doctors treat you post injury and want to do surgery." I had discovered that Nick liked to talk until he was done and didn't listen to a thing I said. He lectured me, while he put me on neck traction for good precautionary care since I was an athlete.

He adjusted my back and then my hips, and then my feet.

"Okay, let's put you on some electric therapy," he said, getting me up. He put me into a chair and put some electric nodes on the back of my neck. He got out a wrap-around ice pack and wrapped it around my neck. "Tell me when." He turned up the electricity on it until I was twitching.

"Stop stop!" I cried.

"Okay, so this is good?"

"Yes."

"So, let's talk about your career as a boxer."

"Of course you want to talk about that."

"Yes, I do," he said. "I looked up some statistics last night. Those fights aren't insured, Emmett, that's where the profit is coming in-"

"I'm trying to take care of my family!"

"So am I," he said. "But you're forgetting yourself. You think that you'd be any good to them if you were paralyzed from the waist down from a good beating?"

I hadn't really thought of that. "I don't know," I admitted.

"Think about it," he said, leaving the room.

"I try not to." I sat still in the chair, the electricity zapping my neck.

"It's a lot to think about," he said from the other room.

When it finally ended, he came back in and took off the electronode stickers. "Feel any better?"

"Well… yeah," I admitted. He came around and took my head to crack my neck.

"Relax, relax…" He snapped my head. I could feel the pressure relieving itself in my neck. I groaned. He got the other side. "So, how do you feel?"

"Pretty good," I admitted. It was like pain was coming out of my neck at a strange rate, flowing out almost like liquid.

"Scale of one to ten."

"All zeroes," I said.

"Excellent," he said. "Do you want to have some breakfast? I think I hear Rosie upstairs making some."

"Sure."

We went upstairs and into the kitchen. It was huge and full of marble countertops and expensive, stainless steel kitchen appliances. I saw a figure standing over the stove.

"Hey Rose, can you add in a few more eggs?" Nick asked.

Rosalie turned around, and jumped. She was wearing glasses and no make-up with a sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her bunny slippers just topped it off. But she was still cute. Nothing could change that she had a tight ass under those giant sweatpants with sorority letters on her butt. "Uh, sure Dad," she said. I saw the flash of a retainer, too. How many girls could wake up and be cute before all their morning primping? It made me smile.

She quickly made our scrambled eggs and dumped them onto a plate, putting them on the table and running upstairs. They were still runny. Nick smirked. "She's so sensitive about her looks," he said. "She'll be back down in twenty minutes if you want to hang out." He put the eggs back into the skillet and finished scrambling them. "She can make more when comes down."

We split the eggs and he poured a cup for me.

"So, what do you think of going pro?" he asked.

"I'm not going to make any money and get beat up all the same," I said.

"I have a few friends," he said ominously.

"You do?"

"I was the physician and chiropractor to the Cinci Bengals. I know people."

I nodded, taking a bite of eggs. Rose made some good stuff.

"I can make some phone calls. All you have to do is train," he said. "I see something in you. A drive, a reason for going. An anger too. That's what real boxers have in them."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I'm into sports in general," he said. "I watch it all- even from a distance."

I heard a creak on the staircase and Rosalie emerged. She was out of her sweatshirt and wearing a tank top that showed a strip of her toned stomach over her pajama pants. Her hair was up in a ponytail and yes, she had on make-up and her contacts. And there were no bunny slippers. "Hey, Emmett," she said.

"Nice to see you again. What happened to those… pink bunny slippers?"

She paled slightly. I grinned.

"I thought they were kinda cute," I said.

"I'm going to make some more eggs," she said. "Are you two okay?"

"Sure," Nick said. "Sure."

She put some bagels in the toaster and cleaned the skillet.

"So, Dad's trying to talk you into going pro?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"You can't tell him no."

"Yeah you can," Nick said.

"No, I really can't tell you no, Daddy," she said.

He kissed her on the temple.

"So, there's a real athletic agent down in San Fran," he told me. "David Wozowski. Old friend."

"Oh really?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna call him and have him come up to visit," he said.

"Bad idea," I said, thinking of the last fight night. It got pretty violent.

"No, just to watch you work out. Where do you work out?"

"The Rez gym," I said. "It's pretty crappy."

"That's where all the greats start off- in the crappiest gyms imaginable. He won't care. This is his job."

I shrugged. "Well, if he's just dying to come up."

"I bet he would be. Just give him a chance."

"All right, all right, let him come up to visit," I shrugged.

"I'm going for a walk on the beach after breakfast," Rose said. "Anybody want to come with me?"

"I've got someone coming in at nine-thirty," Nick said. "Rose, will you go wake up Jasper?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, dumping her scrambled eggs with cheese onto a plate. She ran up the stairs- and I couldn't help but notice her ass through those pants.

"Don't get any ideas with my only daughter," Nick said.

"I'm not!"

"I know she's beautiful. And not just because she's my daughter. Just…. Don't. That's all I'm going to say," he said.

Rose came down the stairs with a tall blonde guy. She was now in those teeny running shorts. Damn. And he just told me not to look at his daughter.

"Morning, Dad," he yawned. He needed a haircut and was wearing running shorts and a tank top. "What's for breakfast?"

"Make it yourself," Rosalie said, getting her bagel and putting jelly on it. "Jasper, this is Emmett."

"Aw, I remember you," he said. "While we were staying at the hotel—"

"Yeah, I'm janitor there."

"Oh, you are? I saw you at the fight… Man.."

He got out a cereal bowl. Apparently, he didn't see me as a maintenance/janitor. That was refreshing.

"Yeah that's him," Rose said. "He fought last night."

"He did?" Jasper cried. "And you didn't bring me along?"

"You were getting smashed and playing pool in Port A," Nick said. "With Colin and Declan."

"What nerds," Rose muttered.

"Hey, don't knock 'em 'til you date 'em," Jasper said.

"So, you've dated them?" she asked smugly.

"No!" he cried. "But you know Declan has a thing for you."

"So what? I'm going to go out for a walk. Anybody want to go?"

"Sure," I said.

"Maybe later," Jasper muttered.

I picked up my dish and coffee cup. I realized they had a dishwasher, but Rose took the plate away from me, putting them away. I gulped down the last of my coffee and handed her the cup, which she put away.

"Let me get my windbreaker," she said, getting out her light jacket. I got mine too.

We went out the patio to the deck. There was a short walk to the beach. It was one of those unnaturally sunny days on the Olympic Peninsula and the seagulls were out.

"So, Dad's going to introduce you to David Wozowski?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Dave's a giant, loud asshole."

"That's new."

"But he's good at what he does. Have you ever seen _Jerry McGuire_?"

"Yeah."

"That's him. He'll get you where you want to go," she said. "But, the thing is, you need to get your license to fight."

"You know about the license?"

"Yes. Dad doesn't know this, but I run an underground booking office in the basement of the Alpha Chi house. I know my sports."

"So you understand the money I'm coming into by fighting?"

"Yes." She turned back to me and crossed her arms. "It's not worth your life to box underground."

"Then maybe I should get life insurance."

"Don't be a smartass. Just go with Dave. He won't steer you wrong."

"Can I count on you for that?"

She smirked. "Sure."

* * *

When I got home, Bella was up, giving Dad a haircut.

"Hey Em, you're just in time," Dad said. "This chair is just killing me."

"Let me finish! You don't want your sideburns uneven, do you Dad?" Bella asked, checking the evenness.

"Eh, nobody but you is going to see it," he said.

"How close do you want it, Em?" Bella asked.

"Really close, I'm tired of the afro growing in," I told her.

"All right. I'll put you on two like Dad."

"Thanks."

"All right. Dad, you're done. Is this okay?"

"Sure, it's great," he said, glancing at his hair in the toaster over. "All right," he said. She helped him up, and he groaned.

"Dad, can't you just at least try this chiropractor?" I asked. "He's helping me a lot."

"What chiropractor?" Bella asked.

"This great one down in La Push I just met. He's made a huge difference for me."

"Emmett, just leave it alone," Dad said. "I'm going to go sit in my recliner."

_Yeah, that's right,_ I thought. _Sit in your recliner, don't actually deal with anything._

Bella swept up the bits of Dad's hair into a pile. "Come on," she said, indicating the chair. "Sit down."

I sat down, trying to forget what Dad said and she wrapped a sheet around my neck.

"I just want Dad to feel better and to stop sitting in his recliner, watching TV all the time," I said as loudly as I could. I cursed the fact that I had gotten the Dish paid off and turned back on.

Bella tapped the clippers and started carefully running the clippers up my head. I felt little itchy bits of hair falling down my neck.

"So do I, but yelling at him doesn't make it any better," she hissed.

"Who's yelling?" I said. "Dad's just wallowing in his own injury."

"So what? What can we do about it? He's got to make the choice himself."

The familiar clicking sounds going over my head cleared off the excess hair. I needed shorter hair to fight— less maintenance.

I didn't want to go after Dad's health, but I wondered what a Medical Power of Attorney would entitle me to. Could I get him to go, then? His depression was so bad…  
Bella brushed off my shoulders. "I'm going to need the car."

"What for?" I asked.

"I know you don't like it that I'm working for Newton's. I just… I don't like it, either. Mike's just…"

"Mike's what?"

"He's just a turd."

"A turd?" I chuckled.

"Yes!" she cried. "I'm going to see if I can get another job for the summer."

"Okay," I said. "That's good. So, good luck and break a leg and whatever."

"Thanks," she said, tapping the top of my head. "I've got to start making plans for summer orientation at UW. It's going to be a hundred dollars to stay in the summer dorm for two nights and go through the program."

"Hey," I said. "I'll find a way to pay for it."

"No, I want to pay for it myself," she said. "And borrow a car to get out there. Not ours— you and Dad can't be without one."

"Thanks," I said.

"Do I look all right?"

She was in jeans and a fitted button-up top that revealed a fitted t-shirt underneath. I hadn't noticed before.

"You look great," I said, getting the sheet off as she swept up my hair.

"That's the right answer," she said. "Otherwise, I'd take your hair and make a voo-doo doll out it. Of course, that's your chiropractor's job, isn't it?"

"Ha ha, Bells," I said. I was about to go upstairs.

"Hey, Emmett?"

"Yeah?"  
"What happened to you?"

"I told Chris he was an asshole that had to treat his employees like shit to get his rocks off."

"No you didn't!"

"Yeah, I did."

"And he did that to you?"

"You should see what Chris looks like today."

She smirked and I took that moment to escape.

* * *

I got a text from Rosalie.

_You wanna come over and watch a movie? ~R_

I was certain Nick had an amazing home theatre system, the likes of which would make me cry.

_What are you watching?_ I sent back.

_I sell the Dead._

I blinked. Huh?

_It's an indie horror movie._ She added in a new text.

I hate Indie movies. I replied.

_It's really great. ~R_

I groaned. A chick was claiming an Indie movie was great. My phone rang. "I've got this or _Dead Snow_."

"_Dead Snow_?"

"It's a movie about a bunch of kids in Norway who go camping and Zombie Nazis attack them. It's a Norwegian horror movie."

"Are the mouths going to be out of sync with the dialogue?"

"You can watch it with subtitles or redubbing, up to you."

"I love Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee movies, so I could take it. You say it's horror?"

"Yes. Come on over, I'll make popcorn."

"Alright… wait, Bella's got the car this afternoon."

"I'll come pick you up. We'll have fun."

She hung up and then I realized Dad was still in the recliner, watching _Where Eagles Dare_ on the VCR in his pajamas and bathrobe. Rose knew, but she didn't know how bad it was.

I rooted through his closet, found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, taking them downstairs to him.

"Dad," I ordered. I tossed the clothes at him. "You need to change into these."

"Why?" he asked, looking at the clothes.

"I got a cute girl coming over in a few minutes," I said.

"So what?"

"So she might want to meet you."

I realized why I was asking him to get dressed. I didn't want Rosalie knowing how bad off Dad really was. It was just… Dad embarrassed me like this. Never leaving the house, watching his black and white movies he taped off Turner Classic Movies… And Dad knew what I was thinking.

Dad just glowered at me. "Fine, I'll change," he said, getting up.

I ran upstairs to make sure my hair hadn't been ruined by Bella and to put some gel in it. I checked that I didn't smell, either, putting on a little more deodorant.

When a sporty little red convertible pulled up, I saw Rosalie's head, wrapped up in a silk scarf. She hopped out, her denim-clad ass cheeks just begging to be pinched, poking out.

I met her downstairs at the front door when she rang the doorbell.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she said, removing her sunglasses. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

I led her inside, and Dad was sitting on his recliner, dressed in regular clothes.

"Hi there," Dad said.

"Hi," Rosalie said. She had a beautiful smile, which she flashed for Dad. "I'm Rosalie Hale, Dr. Nick's daughter. You're… Emmett's Dad?"

"Yeah, Charlie Swan, nice to meet ya." He groaned, standing up, grabbing his lower back, hunched over. He held out his other hand to shake hers. "How'd you meet Emmett?"

"I met him at the Kalaloch Lodge while our house was being finished up."

"Oh, really?"

"We're just going to watch a movie or two," Rose said. "Maybe I'll talk him into _Dr. Zhivago_ sometime."

"_Doctor_ what?" Dad asked.

"Old ballet movie."

"Ah. Chick flicks. Maybe Bella would be interested, not us Swan men."

"Well… I think he's going to like what I ordered off Netflix."

"An Indie Horror movie," I added.

"Well, you two kids better get going," Dad said. "Have a good time and um… be careful."

Dad always told us to have fun and be careful when we went out. "Dad, I'm not going out."

"Yeah…"

I walked with Rose to her car outside. "This is a nice car," I said. "It's older isn't it?"

"Yes, it a Fiat Spyder," she said. "I restored it in high school."

She was hot, she was smart, liked sports and she just admitted to knowing about cars. I was ready to worship this woman.

"Wanna drive?" She dangled keys.

"Sure!" I cried, taking the keys. I settled into the worn-in leather seats and put the key into the ignition. Twisting it, it purred to life. I moaned softly.

"Like my car?" she asked, beside me.

"Love it. You restored this, though?"

"I'm a grease monkey," she admitted.

I backed the car out carefully. It was a tiny car compared to the truck. It turned a lot tighter. Rose's car was amazing. I felt like a middle-aged asshole driving it, though. I was definitely a truck guy. I could hardly hear anything Rose said over the roar of the wind over my head.

We ended up at her house and she showed me how to put the top up. "I've had it rained on before and that absolutely pissed me off."

She made popcorn first, putting an insane amount of salt on it and then escorted me to the theatre room over the garage. I watched that perfect ass bouncing up the stairs. I swear she did it on purpose. I could feel my pants getting tighter.

There were insane amounts of leather on the couches and pillows. I curled up with Rosalie so I could get to the popcorn.

"Okay, overdub or subtitles?"

"Subtitles— no, overdub."

She pressed a few buttons on a couple of remotes and a projector warmed up.

"So this is a foreign movie?" I asked.

"Yes, you can brag to your friends you watched a foreign film and it wasn't so bad." She grabbed a blanket and covered her exposed legs against the A/C. They had A/C. A lot of houses in Forks didn't, including ours.

I actually found myself entertained at a bunch of foreigners getting their asses kicked by Nazi Zombies. A lot of the guts and gore happened off-screen out right out of the shot, which I found kinda lame. "Europeans have really low tolerance levels for violence. Sex and nudity, they don't mind showing, but violence, they don't do at all," she explained.

"I think I like Europe."

"You might. They're the antithesis of America. America likes violence but can't stand nudity and sex."

We watch through to the end. "That was actually pretty good," I admitted. "For a Foreign, Indie Film. It wasn't gay cowboys eating pudding."

She rolled her eyes. "I think gay guys kinda hot. I have a few gay friends back at college."

"Ugh," I said, shivering.

"What's wrong with being gay?" she asked. "Nothing!"

"All right, all right," I said. "So, maybe Indie flicks aren't so bad. What's the other one again?"

"Well, since we watched your pick, why don't we watch mine?" She queued up Netflix. "This is one I liked." She clicked the play button and it loaded. "It's a Bollywood film."

I looked at the title; _Jodhaa Akbar_. Huh? Well, I would give it a chance; she did pretty well with _Dead Snow_, so I'd give Bollywood a try.

I wasn't quite sure what was going on the first half-hour, but a white, long-furred cat with a smooshed face wandered into the room.

"Hey, who's this?" I asked.

"Oh, this is Grace Kelly," she said, scooping up the giant fluffball. The cat glared at me with the hate of a thousand suns. "This is my baby."

"What a fat cat," I muttered. Grace Kelly made demon-noise at me.

"She's not fat! She just has a lot fur," Rosalie said defensively. "She's beautiful. And you're not a fat baby, you're gorgeous!" she crooned to the _not fat_ cat.

"She's fluffy," I said. I tried to reach out to pet her but she made a demon sound again.

"It takes some time for Gracie to warm up," Rose said, stroking the cat's head. Grace Kelly climbed off Rosalie's lap and the coffee table, sniffing the popcorn. "You want some, baby?" she cooed.

"I was gonna eat that!" I cried.

"No you weren't! Let my baby eat." The cat licked a few kernels and then coughed and made a face at me. Damn cat.

"She got cat germs on it," I said.

"I can't believe you hate my pussy," she whispered in my ear.

Did I just hear her right? She grinned, close to my ear, I could feel her breathing.

"It's not that I hate pussies. I just don't think they all like me." I wasn't sure if she was talking about her pussy or that cat.

"This one does. Just give her time." She buried her face to my shoulder and giggled. She was so close. She smelled faintly like perfume and baby powder. It was kinda nice. I wanted to try kissing her to prove I liked her pussy, but she was hiding her face. The moment passed.

"So, where's your Mom? I haven't met her, yet."

"She um… she's dead to us. She had a bunch of affairs and when Dad divorced her, he got away with not giving her thing. Or, at least we think so. He doesn't talk about it with us."

I closed my eyes. It hit a little too close to home. "I'm sorry."

"What about your Mom?"

"Same, I guess. I'm not sure if she had an affair or not while married to my Dad, but she calls, once in a while. She went south of the border, I guess. Living in Phoenix, and then to Jacksonville. She called us at Christmas and Bella's graduation, but that's it. I think she doesn't have time for us."

She rolled over and looked me in the eye.

"I think it's okay to not like your Mom."

"I'd have to agree."

At that moment, there was a bang downstairs, and footsteps. "Rose? Jasper!" Nick called.

Rose jumped up with Grace Kelly in her arms. "I'm up here, Dad," she yelled, going downstairs.

Well, there was no other way out of the house.

"Hi, Nick," I said from the staircase.

His expression twisted. "Hi," he said.

"We were watching that movie I rented from Netflix that I couldn't get you or Jasper to watch."

"How was it?" Nick asked.

"Pretty good. Just not violent enough for me," I said.

"I told him about the lack of violence and abundance of nudity in most European movies," Rose said.

"Were there naked chicks in this one?"

"No," we said together. I reached over to pet Grace Kelly, who was making sounds of hell itself in Rose's arms.

"I'll have to see it," Nick said.

Grace Kelly made another strange, growly noise and started struggling to leap out of Rose's arms. She landed on the tiles with a grunt and glared at me hatefully.

"Right back atcha," I told the cat. She walked away, swishing her fuzzy tail.

"Rose, I hate that cat," Nick said. "When are you going to give it to the pound?"

"Never!" she cried.

"Look, I think I need to get going," I offered.

"I'll take you," Rose said, grabbing her keys and purse.

"See you soon," Nick said, saluting me.

In Rose's car, she did the driving this time. "So, does Bella like to shop?" Rose asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I think so. She needs new clothes. Like stuff that's not from the consignment shop. She deserves it."

"If you let her shop with me, we could spend everything you earned," Rose snorted. "Don't let her loose with your bank account."

"Oh no," I said. "I'm starting up a separate account under my name only. It was suspicious enough last time."

"So, you don't really talk about your underground boxing with your family?"

"No."

"I think you should, just so they can be prepared."

"For what?"

"For anything happening. It's just so dangerous…"

She took my hand. "It's not so bad. Besides, I'd do anything for Dad and Bella- even when they piss me off."

"I guess it's the same here," she said. "When Dad said he was selling his practice and leaving the Bengals, I begged him to move to Portland."

"And he did?"

"Yeah."

"So, did you grow up on the west coast?"

"No, not quite. Jasper and I were born in Spokane, while Dad finished his medical residency, and then when he was done, we went to Cincy. I don't really remember Spokane, but

Jasper does a little bit. We'd come back here for summers and Christmas to visit my grandparents. They live in Hoquiam. Because it was a big scandal about Mom cheating, Jasper and I both decided to move back to the West Coast to get away from it all. We ended up picking the same city. Jazz and I have a difficult time being too far away from each other."

"Is it a twin thing?"

"I usually scoff at twin connection stuff, but I think so. We're a little dependent on each other."

"That's cool. It's about being brother and sister," I offered, thinking of Bella. "I only considered U of Washington in Seattle since it was close enough to drive home if Bella needed me."

"That's sweet," she said. "You care a lot about her?"

"Oh man. 'Care' is an understatement."

"What would you have majored in?"

"Advertising? Business? I don't know. I was on the fast track to the NFL. Didn't happen."

"You look like you trained to play football," she said. "You didn't take them up?"

"No. I wish I had. Sometimes life gets in the way of what you want to do. Hard lesson."

"Emmett, I'm sorry," she said, taking my hand. "Didn't you see the movie Invincible? Sometimes you get a second chance. It just comes a little later. But, he did everything the hard way."

I thought about Vince Papali. I remembered him vaguely as a kid, playing for the Eagles, being the 'old man' of the team. Before Brett Favre just couldn't retire. I had no idea his wife left him until the movie came out. He went on. There was something inside him that wanted something better. He didn't take shortcuts.

"Emmett, what's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't," I said.

She pulled into the driveway of my house. Our conversation left my head racing. Was I really doing the right thing?

"So, I'll see you tomorrow. Take it easy, alright?" Rosalie said, running her fingernail into the grooves of the leather on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, I'll see you around…" Uh, I had to say something else to her. What about- uh, "I liked the movies!" I blurted out.

"Um… Thanks? Give me a call sometime?"

Oh damnit. She was expecting me to say I'd call her but really not? "I will," I said, avoiding word-vomiting this time. "See ya."

Well. That was awkward.

* * *

There were dishes in the sink in the kitchen. Dad was in happy pill land in his recliner. Bella was still out job hunting.

I opened the fridge and got out the eggs and shredded cheese and the mushrooms and peppers, making an omelet for dinner.

All I could think about was the movie_ Invincible _and the realization he didn't take short cuts. Was the underground boxing ring a short cut? I was doing the work, but for the money— not to defeat my own physical limits. I knew it was dirty money by any stretch of the imagination.

As I sat down to eat, Bella came in. "Hi," she called.

"Ssh!" I shushed her. "Dad's asleep," I whispered.

"Oh, he'll sleep through anything once he's hopped up on those Scooby Snacks," she said, waving it off. Scooby Snacks. Pain pills were NOT snacks to be taken lightly. I couldn't believe Bells was saying that.

"Bells," I said disapprovingly.

"Oh come on, it's not like his back is going to heal itself at this point. By the way, I got a job."

"Oh you did? Where?"

She paused. "A restaurant. I'm going to be a waitress."

"Good, you can practice putting my plate away and cleaning up the kitchen."

"Bite me! That's the dishwasher's job!"

* * *

**A/N- If you haven't seen any of the movies mentioned here, they are completely worth it-_ Invincible, I Sell the Dead, Dead Snow_ and _Jodhaa Akbar. _Another personal favorite Indie movie of mine is _The Fall_, which I didn't mention here, but it's wonderful.**


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